Description:
Of middling height, Amaryllia is maybe two fingerbredth's shorter than average for a grown woman, and bears the physique of an active woman, slender, but with strong arms, and hard, calloused hands. Long, creamy gold hair frames her generously dimpled face, though it has been swept back into a severe braid, not even a single strand allowed to break free. She's a pretty woman, though the way she stares at the world with cloaked indignation through her pale blue eyes makes her distantly so. Bearing herself with dignity, always, Amaryllia appears almost timeless in her own way, though she's probably in her late thirties.

What few feminine curves Amaryllia bears are well-hidden beneath her serviceable garb, her sturdy, pale blue shirt too shapeless to hint at anything. She wears with it light brown breeches, clearly a concession to comfort, which tuck in to her low, unpolished brown boots. On colder days, she wears a knitted jumper, it's v-neck low enough so that the collar of her shirt can sit tidily above it. On her shoulder, she wears a starched knot in purple and white; the amount of loops and knots within it mark her as Craftsecond of the Healer Craft.

Biography:
Amaryllia was the eldest born of Amarse and Auryllia's children, which eventually numbered fifteen, of a small hold near Southern Boll. Her childhood was mostly without event, save for, when she was close to ten turns, the death of the sibling next-to-closest to her own age. Tomar was closer to her than Auralia, her closest sibling, and his death was just about the end of her childhood - she ended up leaving the family hold, witht he permission of her father, and ended up travelling with traders for the next turn. At twelve, she decided to become a Healer, and apprenticed herself, eventually becoming a very close friend of Rillanon, a fellow apprentice.

Rillanon ended up Searched, and although she didn't Impress, this all but ended the friendship, and thus, Amaryllia turned lonely in her quest towards Journeymanship, eventually walking the tables at eighteen. Immediately, almost, she was posted to Ista Weyr, and found herself a niche of sorts, although her hardened attitude made friendships difficult to come by. Close to twelve turns later, she was recalled to the Hall in order to teach some of her particular techniques of Infirmary management; to her hidden surprise, not so many months later, a grilling from Craftmaster Ayanne and Craftsecond Sauscony landed her a Master's knot, and control of the infirmaries.

Several turns later (the most of which Amaryllia spent tormenting apprentices, and otherwise running her infirmaries exceedingly well), Sauscony stepped down, and Amaryllia was asked to take her place as Craftsecond of the Healers. She, of course, accepted.

Description:
Forever short, and probably forever slim, she is also firmly muscled, although one-time pregnancies have added a roundness to her otherwise flat middle, and added fullness to her breasts. She has eyes of deep amber, and a long defined nose, wide, full lips, and a slim, oval face. Her skin is clear alabaster, or ivory, with only a little color, contrasted by her raven black locks, which have grown to just on her shoulders, held back by a polished clip. A scar weaves its way along her hair-line, faded with age, but still ever noticeable.

Short in stature is she, standing at little more than five foot three, or so, she is mostly devoid of feminine curves, although age -- and she appears to be about forty turns old -- has added a slight roundness to her form. Dressed comfortably in wherhide breeches dyed black, and a simple shirt invariably shaded in metalic blue, malachite green or bright orange, her attire is simple, yet sophisticated. A common accessory is her black riding jacket, with lining of brilliant orange. Upon her shoulder is her knot - wingrider, riding blue, at Telgar Weyr.

Lienth
Imagine an amalgamation of metal -- gleaming like blue flames in the sun -- crushed and battered until colors spiral and twist in webs of blue and purple and silver, forever weaving it's patterns in molten glory across this blue. The darkness of an enchanted evening over the widest blue ocean gives leave to gleams of silver and cobalt that dance a firey dance across his wingsails, wavering unceasingly as they are battered by a stormy sky, reflected in pinions of royal purple. A stark battlefield plays amid his torso, where shimmers of azure wreck havoc on battered steel, all defeated as a flaming sun makes coppery limbs dance with the brightest blue sheen. Below his belly, silver flashes give way to purple flames and curls of sapphire unable to cease their endless tangle of power and might, eventually numbed by the reflection cold and unbaring copper in the form of his tapering talons. Grey iron constructs his head, held high and firm, liquified in a dance of tremulous tantrums, stricken by a heated flame.

Lienth has aged somewhat since finding his Fiora on the Fortian sands, some 20 Turns, 8 months, and 21 days ago, but has retained his happy -go-lucky attitude, even now. He's not a large blue, at about 26 meters long with a wingspan of 43.31 meters.

Biography
Twin daughters were born to two Lemosian bakers - Maleka and Fiora, as different as night is to day, in personality as well as looks. As young adults, Maleka turned her attentions towards the Healer Craft, and apprenticed there, but it took Fiora until she was sixteen to decide that she wanted to follow the path of her parents, and be a Baker. She was eventually apprenticed, after some hesitation, and ended up posted to Fort Weyr, a place she fit in nicely with from the first. Her search, some time later, came as a surprise to her - as did her Impression, to a blue dragon named Lienth.

She eventually ended up Wingsecond, and then Wingleader, and gave birth to a daughter - Beer, called Alainor - in her early twenties. Several turns later, she transfered to Telgar after a near-miscarriage of her second child, and Weyrmated long-running crush, A'len, a few months after giving birth to twins, Airene and Arenan. Again, she was promoted, becoming Wingsecond for Starblaze for some eight turns, before changes in wing structure had her moved around, and she gratefully retired to more or less obscurity as a wingrider in Thunderbolt.

Description
Inset into a face lined with the fewest of creases - which only serve to add depth and charm to his features - deep brown eyes have a sparkle of their own, which, set against absurdly long eyelashes, give him an almost prettiness. More rugged are his other features: nose creviced and almost hook-shaped, lips soft, but slim, even if his smile is warm. Hair, blond, and tousled, lends him no dignity, although it upholds his peaceful expression - even if it hardly admits to his age; a solid 45 turns, or thereabouts. Achingly skinny limbs extend to give him height, his whole body seemingly insubstantial.

His oversized shirt hangs loosely over his wirey frame, unfilled by his slim chest, but matches his eyes in its deep, smooth brown colour. Breeches are, conversely, verging on tight fitting, which illustrate his muscles, although legs remain slim visibly through the deep blue fabric, ends disappearing into his thigh-length boots of brown leather. Shoulder sports the Kalseru knot of a rider, the strand of blue remarking upon his lifemate's colour.

Lhadrinth
Neither greater nor lesser of size than others of his color, Lhadrinth nevertheless has a kind of size about him, a presence carried by the paleness and gleam of his hide. He is the blue of moonlight on the clearest snowy night, a thing unknown at Kalseru and thus the more intriguing and beautiful for its rarity. In dim light, his silver-blue shade seems to glow, set off by the jewel-toned eyes, slightly large for his head with its short, rounded muzzle and backswept headknobs and ridges. Curves and hollows capture and enhance his shade, deepening to blue midnight shadows, lining ridges and wingbones, washing foggily across translucent wingsails and shading across his sides and tail. A silent sort, he nevertheless is difficult to overlook.

Biography
Cyrhaern was the third of six sons, born to a pair of Journeyman Beastcrafters at Keroon. He, like all of his siblings, joined the Beastcraft in due course, although he himself ended up working with a Master at Ista Hold whose interests in smaller animals matched his own. He proved to be a capable apprentice, finding special talents in the workings of firelizards, and their training. At seventeen, however, he was picked up for search, and ended up Impressing blue Lhadrinth at Ista Weyr.

For turns, he merely served in the wings, neither altogether brilliant, nor a dunce, at what he did. For a brief while, he weyrmated, but that fell apart in due course. When the pass ended, C'haer took back to his firelizard-training talents, and became a more official worker in this capacity, which eventually indeared him to Kalseru, when that Weyr opened, which provoked his transfer there at the age of fourty-three.

Description
Delicate curls of tawny golden brown frame her face in somewhat lopsided formations, like a crown of rich hue: releasing sturdy, but infinately fine face to its creamy pale delineation and refined features. Alabaster contrasts doe-like eyes of a watery blue, plentiful depths vacant in singular delight, whilst defined nose adds an elegance manifest within gentle lips and lengthy neck. Just below average in height, figure maintains an vaguely rounded, firm formation: womanly curves obvious, amid smooth form, beneath her sturdy garb.

Black and orange cords wind together, looping once beneath her arm, the string knotted four times to mark her as a Wingsecond, whilst an extra cord of green indicates her lifemate's colour.

Creamy leather is tooled into fine jacket; pale blue stitching adding graceful bent to the fitting garment, tied about the waist with a smooth belt. Beneath, shirt of pale blue -- matching stitches perfectly -- and pink, in geometric design, suits complection, tucked tidily into nicely fitting breeches of a similar leather form. Boots; dark, older, more worn, sit upon dainty feet, finishing outfit in cool complacency.

Caeruleth
Shadows wreak havoc upon this diminutive mistress of the night, dark forest greens twining with lighter, more verdant shades along her long sinuous neck, while crisscrossing malachite patterns dapple her smoothed-down neckridges. A narrow, angular frame is swathed in moonlight, her dancer's belly rounding out and paling to a gaudy shade of lime - a snaky whiplash tail coated in a deep moss green, is flecked with specks of green-blue, adding more color to the monochrome appearance. Lanky limbs offset bodily proportions, sharp talons etched from black marble. Vaguely oversized wings could easily been deemed 'svelte' in their velvety darkness.

Biography
Hanneke is the daughter of two rather eccentric crafters - a harper and a healer - born at the Harper/Healer Halls, but raised in Lemos, when her mother was posted there. She was always a pretty child, and, as she grew older, became clearly obvious as a stupid one, too. No matter how hard her parents tried, they could not manage to teach her how to 'think', as they put it, and thus, when she was in her early teens, she was sent to the Harper Hall to apprentice, and to be taught this very valuable skill.

For what it's worth, Hanneke was a woeful Harper, truly the bane of most of her teachers, and there was probably a general sigh of relief when she was picked up for search by blue Inigoth of Ista Weyr. Following a rather tumultuous candidacy, Hanneke found her lifemate in green Caeruleth, and eventually became part of the Phoenix Wing, after an equally tumultuous weyrlinghood. For the longest time - several turns - it could not be said that Hanneke was any better a rider than a harper, but evidently her Wingleader Kr'lin thought differently, promoting her to Wingsecond at the age of twenty.

Description
Arilla is a tall woman, her gangly limbs giving her an elongated, out-of-proportion look that is only added to by her slim stature, making her all angles, no curves. She's not a pretty woman, although her pale lips form a neat bow, features maintaining a sharp, well-defined outline - no doubt too sharp in the case of her oddly hooked nose. Her hair is long and vaguely waved, the ice-brown locks bundled up into a serviceable bun to keep her vision, through mysteriously dark charcoal-grey eyes, their closeness gives her an oddly cross-eyed look. She's probably in her mid-thirties, although it's hard to know for sure.

No's tropical warmth has ensured that she's given up traditional riding leathers for something far more serviceable, her light breeches made loose to allow the air to circulate. Her equally light woven shirt, in a pale brown colour, is worn untucked from her breeches, obscuring at most times the belt of deep grey she wears snug about her middle. Heavy boots are a concession to practicality, built for strength and endurance. The tangled knot upon her shoulder indicates that she's one of the refugees from Who Knows, and that her rank is Weyrlingmaster, her lifemate blue.

Emorith
Even in the most poverty-stricken parts of town where refuse litters narrow crooked alleyways, and where hope is discarded like just another empty bottle, the clear azure midwinter sky arcs overhead, providing the residents no warmth, but a glimpse of the world beyond. This vision of beauty is free and visible to all, its clarity lending a sense of hope that is echoed over the hide of this cerulean blue dragon. Like that endless sky, his smooth hide is clear and unblemished, fading somewhat -- as the sky does near the horizon -- to a paler, but no less perfect, cornflower blue in the most distal regions of his limbs and wingtips. As though eclipsed, his neck ridges deepen to twilight shadows partially illuminated by glowlight, a sense of movement evident in the multiple shadings of indigo that flicker down to his tail. Lush verdant greens trail vine-like around the firmament of his wings, translucent lavender blossoms frigid in the seasonal frost of his trailing edges.

Biography
Young Arin's parents wanted him to Impress more than anything, but he fell in love with Lilla, instead, and although they /tried/ to wait until such day as he was too old to stand, in the end they just had to give up, and left Ista together for wet Who Knows Weyr. Within two turns they had a daughter, Arilla, whom they loved above all things; the lack of Impression never crossed either of their minds again. Arilla proved to be outgoing and energetic, occasionally a source of problems, but more often, a genuinely likeable young person with a strong will to succeed.

After she became too old to remain within the nurseries of Who Knows as a charge, Arilla elected to stay on as an Assistant Nanny, her delight in the job making her progress to full Nanny a rapid one. She genuinely adored the children, and thoroughly enjoyed playing games with them, and was well known for being both enthusiastic and understanding. She also took to running - jogging and climbing, about the cliffs of Who Knows, her boundless energy expelled in the physical exercise.

At the age of sixteen, however, Arilla was Searched by Elenna's Isaryth, and accepted the offer to stand for Peribeth's clutch, figuring that she might as well take up the experience. Her nannying days were gone forever, however, when pale blue Emorith found her upon the sands, hurtling her into weyrlinghood, then riderhood in the Ivy Wing. After three turns as a Wingrider, Sorcha accosted her with a bundle of cords, making her Weyrlingmaster for the future classes of weyrlings within the weyr. When Who Knows flooded, some turns later, Arilla ended up at No Weyr, training weyrlings that would eventually reclaim Who Know's leadership, and take her home just in time for the birth of her one and only child, Sharilan, the son of one of her best friends since weyrlinghood, Sh'dan.